


Sweet Creature

by izloveshorses



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, So much bickering, barista!Dmitry, oh and he owns a doggo!!, the mans has TWO jobs. as a treat., writer!Dmitry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25333867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izloveshorses/pseuds/izloveshorses
Summary: Anya recently moved into her sister's apartment and she couldn't be happier, except she doesn't care much for their next door neighbor, Dmitry. Shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Plot? I don't know her. Only a vague string of scenes that somewhat go together and spark joy. Have fun!

Moving in with her sister was something Anya had looked forward to for a while. Maria’s apartment was close to Anya’s job in the city, not too expensive, and roomy enough for her to comfortably be introverted for a little bit. They settled into an easy routine— Tuesdays were laundry days, Sundays were movie nights, Thursdays were for going out to dinner. Almost everything was as perfect as one would expect.

Almost. 

The neighbors were relatively kind. Anya didn’t know some of them that well yet, but she did talk to the kind elderly lady across the hall who baked them sweets and looked forward to weekly visits from her granddaughter. Anya enjoyed stopping to say hello on her way back from work, petting one of her five cats at the door. 

The boy who lived next to her and her sister, however, was a different story. 

Maria was apparently friends with Dmitry. Anya couldn’t figure out why, since all he did was slouch around their living room more than what was hospitably possible, steal their food from the fridge, make an obnoxious amount of noise before his morning runs at an ungodly hour, and leave his stuff all over their apartment. When he’d introduced himself as a writer, she thought he’d be the type of guy who assumed everyone wanted him to share his useless opinions. He certainly looked the part. He probably thought his smile would make any woman agree with whatever he said. But then he asked her the difference between brita water and filtered water and she realized he was just an idiot with a degree.

Anya was rushing out the door on her way to work when she tripped over a jacket that had fallen to the floor and some of her coffee spilled as she stopped herself from falling. She groaned, counted to ten, and picked up the jacket between her thumb and index finger. She marched next door and pounded with a fist until a bleary-eyed Dmitry appeared.

“Next time  _ this _ trips me—” she shoved the jacket into his chest, “it’s going in the fireplace.”

He blinked down at her. “None of us here has a fireplace.”

“You know what I mean!”

He grinned, dimples creasing on his face. “Have a lovely morning, your highness." 

With that, he slammed the door, a breeze making her hair flutter back. She huffed and turned on her heel. Another day, she decided. Another battle to choose.

Her entire commute was spent hating the memory of the way his hair fell over his eyebrows and stuck up in odd angles when he first woke up.

* * *

Dmitry enjoyed the simple pleasures of life. 

He liked spending his shifts at the coffee shop trying to guess the lives of the various strangers he encountered. He liked cooking breakfast food the most but wasn’t skimpy on preparing dinners either. He liked taking his dog, Pooka, for walks after his morning run. He liked the city as it was waking up, still and quiet and barely lit. But lately, more than anything, his favorite hobby was seeing just how angry his neighbor’s sister could get.

Maria was friendly enough. He enjoyed their evenings spent watching trashy television and ordering takeout, but after Anya moved in, it was clear that friendliness didn’t run in the family. Well, at least, not to him. She seemed kind when she spoke with other tenants on their floor. Charming, even. But from the moment they met she was hell-bent on hating him, and in turn, he was determined to discover how many ways he could annoy her. So far she particularly loathed his taste in music, when he left his shoes in front of the door on his visits, and the fact that he owned Airpods. But it didn’t take much to start an argument that would entertain him until Maria would get tired of them and kick him out. 

Climbing up the steps from his morning run, he banged his fist on his neighbors’ door, unrelenting. Finally, the smaller Romanov sister opened it, a murderous glare leveled at him.

“What,” Anya spat, “could you possibly need before seven a.m.?”

He winced, sometimes he forgot not everyone shared his sleep schedule. He recovered quickly though and smiled brightly. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

“What do you  _ want, _ Dmitry.”

“I need to ask your sister a favor.”

“She’s still sleeping, like any sane person on a Saturday morning.”

“You’re not sleeping.” She was about to slam the door when he stopped it with his hand. “Wait.”

Even when half asleep, her eyes could still turn him to stone. She was in pajamas— if a T-shirt that was three sizes too big and hung down to her thighs counted. If he didn’t know any better he’d say she was looking at where his shirt clung to his stomach from sweat. For a fleeting second his gaze dropped to her bare legs and… nope. He wouldn’t finish that thought.

He cleared his throat. “Would you two be up for watching Pooka this weekend? I’m visiting Vlad and his apartment doesn’t allow pets.”

She just blinked up at him. “Could that not have waited until at least noon? And why does this request only concern Maria?”

“I’m asking you now, aren’t I?”

“Ask later!” she yelled, finally slamming the door loud enough to wake the whole block.

Dmitry grinned. That went about as well as he expected.

* * *

Anya really wanted to hate Dmitry’s dog as much as she hated the owner.

She tried. The first time he bestowed responsibilities— when he was running late one night he called and asked her to let Pooka out— she… may have neglected his request. Well, really, she just fell asleep too early before she could stop by, but the damage was done, and their shouting match was legendary.

But, begrudgingly, the dog did not take after his owner. Pooka was quite the gentleman, actually. None of them were sure what breed he was but it didn’t matter because he could fit snugly on Anya’s lap and he didn’t chew on anything other than his own toys. He never begged, except for bananas, which was an interesting choice of a treat for a dog. At the very least he was good company when Maria was working late.

Anya was nestled into the couch with a book in her hand and Pooka curled up next to her when there was a light knock on the door. “It’s open!” she called.

Pooka lifted his head and wagged his tail at the sound of Dmitry’s noisy entrance, but, to Anya’s satisfaction, he did not leave her side.

Dmitry stepped into the living room and glanced around. “Where’s Maria?”

She rolled her eyes. “Still working, but your dog is right here.”

He smiled softly. Usually his grin was self-important but this was almost… fond? “He likes you.”

For some reason the comment made her cheeks flush. To hide it she stood quickly and said, “It’s probably because I kept giving him banana slices.”

Dmitry laughed and for the first time it didn’t annoy her. “That’s probably my fault, when he was a puppy I’d give him some while I made my smoothies. Guess he expects them every day now.” Pooka jumped down from the couch and Dmitry bent down to scoop him up, smiling at the kisses on the cheek he received in greeting. “I missed you too, buddy.”

Anya caught herself smiling before she remembered she wasn’t supposed to enjoy any interaction with him. “His stuff is by the door.”

“All right.” He tucked the dog under his arm. “Thank you.”

She blinked, surprised that he was capable of sincerity and gratitude. “Any time.”

He nodded, and with nothing left to say, he grabbed Pooka’s supplies by the door and left. Anya stood there for another minute, convincing herself that his laugh  _ wasn’t _ appealing in any way.

* * *

Dmitry had stopped by the grocery on his way home after a long day of writing. If it weren’t for the plastic bags in his hand, he’d feel like a college kid again with his backpack slung over his shoulder on the crowded bus. He was about to pull out his phone when a familiar head of blonde hair caught his eye.

Something was off. He had nothing to lose, so he moved one pole over to stand beside her. 

Anya looked up and immediately rolled her eyes. “Of course you’re here.”

He rested his hand above her on the pole. “Don’t look, but some creep has been staring at you for awhile now.”

“What?”

“I said don’t look!”

She huffed, annoyed, but clearly uncomfortable. 

“Laugh like I just made a joke.”

She did, short and sudden, then with a brittle smile and through clenched teeth she said, “Next time you’re going to have to try harder to earn a laugh from me.”

He snorted. “Noted.” 

Their stop came and he let her off first, making sure that random guy didn’t follow. She marched ahead but he was able to keep up with her in easy strides. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled, “for back there.”

He adjusted the strap on his shoulder, surprised. “It’s the least I could do.”

A few minutes of quiet passed as they meandered down the sidewalk. “Do I dare ask what you’ve got in that backpack?”

He shrugged. “Laptop.”

“Is your laptop from 1993?”

He laughed. “There’s also some notebooks and snacks in here. For working on my book.”

“Oh.” She chewed on her lip for a second. “I don’t think I ever learned what you’re writing about.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever offered,” he responded honestly, meeting her eyes for a second, surprised at her curiosity. “It’s about… identity. I’ve been interviewing people on where they come from, what they take pride in, stuff like that. Now I’m just compiling it all together.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “It’s like a biography of the city.”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Is it almost finished?”

He nodded. “It’s taking awhile because I’ve been working so late at the coffeehouse, but it’s getting there.”

“That’s good.” They made it inside their building and Dmitry punched the UP arrow on the elevator. “It sounds interesting.”

“Anastasia Romanov,” he started, stepping onto the elevator, “was that a compliment?”

“Would you like an insult instead?” she snapped back.

He grinned. “I’ll take what I can get.”

* * *

Anya would never admit it, but Dmitry was good for one thing: coffee.

Before she moved in he’d always bring Maria a latte in the mornings, but now, after Maria hinted at her usual order, he’d bring Anya something too, marking a rare moment of civility between them. He always smelled like the stuff. Not that she was sniffing him— but he’d work long shifts and come back reeking of coffee grounds and vanilla.

Not that that was a bad thing either. Not that it mattered.

Tuesday afternoon was reserved for catching up on laundry. But when they ran into some trouble with the washer, Maria had a foul idea.

“No!” Anya whined and crossed her arms while she stood halfway in the laundry room and halfway in the kitchen. “You can do your load there, I can go to the dry cleaners or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nastya,” Maria called back from her bedroom. “Dmitry’s washer is next door and perfectly functional, and he’s off work today, so he won’t mind.”

_ “I _ mind!”

Maria came out with her laundry basket and sighed. “I can’t help you with that. But if you want clean underwear this week, you’re going to have to suffer through a visit to his apartment.”

Next thing she knew she was standing in his doorway staring at a very shirtless Dmitry.

She immediately looked up at the ceiling,  _ begging _ her eyes not to flicker down again, as she explained their predicament. It would’ve been a good time for Maria to chime in but she was silent. Hmm.

“What’s the magic word?” He asked. She couldn’t see his expression but he was probably so smug she’d want to smack him.

Instead she shoved her laundry basket into all six of his abs and brushed past him. He caught it with a grunt and a laugh, Maria following behind. Anya figured the layout of their apartments would mirror each other so she found the laundry room easily. 

Once the first load was tossed into the washer there wasn’t much left to do and Anya realized she’d never stepped foot in his apartment before. It was tidy, with only the bare essentials, hardly any sentimentality anywhere. The couches were worn and plain but clean. The television had various game systems connected to it, reminding Anya of Alexei’s setup back home. Next to the couch was a dog bed and a very wiggly Pooka. 

She knelt down and the dog skipped happily over to her to say hello. “I’m impressed,” she muttered when Dmitry came out into the living room.

“With what?” he replied, resting a hand on his hip and another on the couch.

Her gaze dropped down to his chest again and she silently prayed the heat burning her cheeks wasn’t visible. “I thought you’d live in a pigsty.”

“You think so little of me, don’t you,” he answered with the most insufferable smirk that said he thought otherwise. 

She was saved from trying to come up with a retort by Maria’s laugh coming from the kitchen. “Didn’t you have a date last night? How’d it go?”

Dmitry glanced down at Anya— who was suddenly very interested in a white spot of fur on Pooka’s back— and crossed his arms. “I don’t think she’ll be calling me back.”

“Are you bummed?”

Anya looked up to see him shrug. “Not really. We didn’t click, it’s fine.” He sighed. “Well, I’ll let you know when the next load is ready.”

Maria nodded and Anya stood. Back in their own kitchen, working together to get through the stack of dishes in the sink, Anya spoke up. “I didn’t know he was seeing anyone.”

“Dmitry?” Maria snorted. “He dates around a lot. I don’t think he knows how to do serious relationships though.”

Anya hummed. “Maybe because he’s a jerk.”

“Or,” Maria handed Anya a plate to dry, “he just hasn’t met the right person yet. Or maybe he has, and she’s just too stubborn to admit she likes him.”

“Sounds like a piece of work if you ask me.”

Maria laughed and rolled her eyes. They were quiet for a moment before Maria asked, “Since when are you curious about Dmitry and his love life?”

Anya ignored Maria’s smirk because, frankly, she had no idea why she even brought up the subject. “I’m not.”

“Sure.”

She knew Maria didn’t believe her. But honestly, Anya couldn’t care less about whatever poor girl decided to go on a date with Dmitry, or his love life, or someone else getting to touch his bare chest.

* * *

Dmitry got back from his morning shift, carrying his usual drink order for his neighbors, when he heard loud laughter coming from inside their door. That was unusual. 

Anya answered his knock and he couldn’t help the breath leaving his lungs. Her yellow dress was tight at the waist and the skirt fanned out until it reached her knees, her hair hanging in loose curls, a slight smile on her lips— one that was quickly replaced with panic as he took forever to remember what he came here to do.

She pushed him back and shut the door behind her. “What do you need?” she hissed.

“You look… nicer than normal.”

“Thank you?” She played with the skirt of her dress, studying him. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want— here’s your coffee?” He handed her the cupholder. 

She stared down at his hands. “I’ll send Maria over later. Is that all?”

He smiled. She was hiding something. “Are you having a party without me?”

She huffed. “Please leave.”

“Why wasn’t I invited?”

“I said  _ go away.” _ With that, she stepped backwards into her apartment and shut the door, leaving him baffled.

Later, Dmitry was sitting at his table typing on his laptop, notebooks strewn about, when he heard a tap on his door. Maria didn’t wait to come in. 

“Nastya said you had coffee for me?”

“On the counter,” he answered without looking up. “Hey, what was that thing you guys had going on this morning? Anya was being… mysterious about it.”

“This morning?” she paused. “Oh! That was you at the door! She wouldn’t say.”

“What?”

“Our family came over for brunch today. That’s probably when you stopped by.”

“But why wasn’t I welcomed in?”

“We take family time very seriously.” She shrugged. “Why do you keep bringing coffee over every day?”

“Can I not do something neighborly?”

“You used to only bring me some every once in a while, but now it’s… daily.”

“So?” He didn’t know where she was going with this. He took a sip of his glass of water.

“Nevermind.” She waved him off but didn’t leave. “So, when are you gonna fess up that you have a crush on my sister?”

He choked on his drink. After a violent coughing fit and a barely restrained smile from Maria, he sputtered, “I don’t— first of all, she— how do— what makes you think I—” 

A laugh escaped her. “Well, this reaction gives you away, for starters.” He tried to defend himself but she continued, “All you’ve talked about lately is how irritated you are with her. And you’re over  _ all the time.” _

“I was over a lot before she moved in, that’s no different!”

“You stopped by for dinner like, twice a week. Now you come every morning, random times in the afternoon, and like every other night to sit on our couch for two hours.”

“That doesn’t mean I have a  _ crush _ on Anya. This isn’t high school!”

“Which is why I’m telling you that both of you have been idiots!” She huffed. “Listen. I’m cool with it if you do like her, if that’s what’s keeping you from saying anything.”

“I’m not—”

“But you either need to admit it or let it go because you’re both on my  _ last nerves. _ I can’t take it much longer.”

He scoffed. “I can’t help it if she hates me. But— that doesn’t matter, because I don’t have feelings for her. At all.”

“Uh huh.” She grabbed the coffee and headed towards the door. “When you finally have a spark of rationality, feel free to come over and I won’t say ‘I told you so’. Instead I’d tell you how much she really doesn’t hate you.”

“That’s never happening! Because I definitely don’t—” Maria was in the hallway before he could finish. “I definitely don’t feel that way,” he muttered.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. If he  _ did _ think of Anya that way, there wasn’t much stopping him from marching over there right now. All that stood between them was a wall and two doors. And a strange blood feud. He could see himself standing from his table, knocking on her door, asking Maria what she meant when she said _ she really doesn’t hate you, _ and… nah. He was never good with words when it mattered. Or emotions.

It would never happen.

* * *

Anya thought of herself as someone fairly easy to please. A good book was all she needed, but a night that promised peace and quiet and solitude? It was more than she could possibly ask for.

Maria was out on a late-night date so Anya had the whole apartment to herself. She was free to sit in silence, eat too much pizza, and catch up on her book without any criticism. Happiness radiated through the whole room so much that the knock on her door couldn’t dampen her spirits.

“Oh. Dmitry.”

He seemed surprised to see her answer. “Hello.”

“What are you doing here?” He usually never came at this late hour.

“I, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I needed to talk to your sister about something.”

“She’s out. On a date, actually.” 

“Oh.”

“But I can take a message?”

“No, it’s fine, I can stop by later.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and turned to head back to his apartment.

Anya had no idea what made her blurt, “Have you eaten?”

“What?”

“I ordered a pizza earlier but there’s still so much left…”

He studied her for a minute before smiling. “Sure, if you don’t mind.”

She stepped aside to let him through the door. He walked straight to the kitchen as usual, but something still felt strange, tense. It was rare for just the two of them to voluntarily be alone together here. 

While he helped himself to her leftovers she found her spot back on the couch and opened her book. “You can eat in here if you want,” she called. “Maria’s not home to scold us.”

He laughed and made his way into the living room and plopped next to her. “I can’t argue with that.”

“As long as you don’t leave any evidence of the crime, she’ll never know.”

“When have I ever made a mess with my food?”

“No one likes it when you’re egotistical.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” He laughed and an awkward silence followed. He cleared his throat after a few bites of his slice of pizza. “So, it’s Friday night, Maria is out on the town, and you’re… reading?”

She placed her book back on the side table and shrugged. “I also have some tiramisu in the fridge.”

He shook his head. “That’s such a sad way to spend your night alone.”

She scoffed. “I might take a bubble bath later, that’s not sad!”

“But you would rather sit in your apartment, alone, than go out? Meet someone?”

“Well, since you’re so high and mighty about it, what are your plans?” That shut him up. “You can dish it but you can’t take it, huh?” 

He rolled his eyes but she knew she won. “I guess we’re both losers.”

Another silence followed as he finished his pizza. Anya realized this was the most casual they’d ever been around each other— civil, but not overly polite, making unfunny jokes, her legs curled up in an unladylike way, toes touching his leg as he slouched into the couch, his arm draped over the back. She adjusted so that her feet were resting on the coffee table instead.

He must have noticed the same thing, because he said, “I think this is the longest we’ve gone without yelling at each other.”

She laughed. “You haven’t done anything to annoy me yet.”

“That’s high praise, coming from you.” He set his paper plate on the table.

“We’ll see how long you last.”

He shook his head, smiling. “To my defense, you’re really fun to annoy.”

“How so?”

“Well,” he scooted closer and turned his body to face her. “When you’re mad, your nose gets all scrunched up—” he made a face to imitate her.

“I do not!”

“You do! I’d say it’s adorable, but then you look like you want to murder me.”

“If I do ever murder you, know that you probably deserve it,” she replied, realizing how close they were now. Perhaps the closest they’d ever been. And then she realized he called her adorable and she wasn’t sure how to interpret that.

“Probably,” he laughed, and her eyes flickered down to his dimple. “But I guess a small part of me wondered what would happen if you ever stopped hating me.”

The teasing ebbed away from his eyes and her smile fell. Somehow they were even closer, but she couldn’t pull herself away. “I don’t hate you now.”

His throat bobbed. Gravity shifted, pulling her even closer to him, and her next feeble attempt to fight it was, “What are you going to do about it?”

His gaze dropped down to her lips and that’s when she gave up any excuse to keep herself away. The hand that was resting on the back of the couch came forward to brush her cheek with the back of his fingers and he leaned in closer, their noses brushing, and… the sound of the door unlocking made them leap apart like two positive ends of a magnet. 

Maria had arrived home from her date, humming softly. Dmitry busied himself by picking up his trash and Anya snagged her book and flipped to a random page. Hopefully her sister wouldn’t notice her scarlet cheeks. She didn’t even have time to think about whatever  _ that _ was before she had to pretend to be interested in anything other than the guy sitting next to her.

“Oh, Dmitry!” Maria started, setting her purse down on the floor next to the television. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

He only shrugged uncomfortably and Anya fought the urge to kick him for how poorly he was hiding what was going on. “I just stopped by and there was… pizza.”

“Uh huh.” Maria glanced between them and Anya was suddenly very interested in her book. “Did I miss anything? You two have the most entertaining fights sometimes.”

Anya sighed. “We were just chatting.”

Maria raised her eyebrows. “You two never  _ just chat.” _

“What were we chatting about, Dmitry?” Anya looked pointedly at him. She couldn’t lie so their fate rested in his idiotic, large, soft hands.

“Uh…” his eyes fell on something in the kitchen. “Avocados.” 

They were doomed. Anya had to try  _ very hard _ not to bury her face in her hands in exasperation.

“We were having a lively debate on whether or not they’d be good on pizza,” he continued, standing up, careful to keep his trash out of Maria’s sight.

Anya took this opportunity to argue. “There’s no way that would be good,” she said, grimacing.

“How would you know? You’ve never tried it!”

“Neither have you!”

“Ugh, I’m sorry I asked,” Maria muttered and looked at Dmitry. “Please leave so I can talk about my date instead of listening to your bickering.”

“What if I want to hear about your date?” he pouted and Maria wouldn’t have it. “Fine. Goodnight, Romanovs.”

Anya’s eyes followed him all the way to the door without her intention. She shook her head, attempting to shake whatever would’ve happened, to shake the annoyance at her sister for interrupting and Dmitry for doing that thing with his eyes and herself for these emotions. She feigned a smile. “How was your date?”

Maria grinned, finally distracted from whatever weirdness she walked into. “I think he’s a keeper.”

“That’s a relief,” Anya said, happy for her sister. Then her eyes landed on something on the coffee table. “Dmitry forgot his phone, I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t unusual for him to leave stuff in their apartment, and he’d always come back as soon as he realized something was missing, but she thought this could be a good opportunity to figure out what was going on without another pair of eyes on them. Or to explain herself, to write off whatever was about to happen with the excuse that she was tired and had had a long day at work… yeah. That was it. That’s what she’d say.

But when she made it outside of the door he was still in the dimly lit hallway, leaning against the wall, looking both surprised and relieved when he met her eyes. He straightened up immediately. 

“You forgot your phone,” she said dumbly, holding it out to him.

He looked down at it and back up to her. Taking the phone but not letting go of her hand, he pulled her closer and in one short stride she was in his arms and his lips crashed into hers.

She sighed, her free hand sliding up to his face and into his stupidly soft hair, enjoying his stupidly soft lips and his stupidly soft hands. It was like a final puzzle piece slotting itself into place— they fit together perfectly, like his hands were created to wrap around her back, like his taste was meant for her. Her stomach knotted and untangled itself repeatedly as she perched on her toes, their kiss a fight she was determined to win, her hands moving down to grip his shirt in her fists. He grinned against her mouth when he fell back against the wall. 

His heavy breath fanned her face when he whispered, “Thank you. I’m gonna need my phone in the morning.”

She moved her hand back up to his face, planting her thumb on his dimple. “Be careful not to lose your stuff, Sudayev.”

He laughed softly before claiming her lips again. “Goodnight, Anya.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes... no plot... is good

Anya knew Dmitry would be too smug for his own good, so she decided to wait a healthy length of time before running into him again. How long would she wait? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about any of it, really. 

Maria couldn’t find out, that was certain. Anya would never live it down. She should’ve probably told Dmitry to make sure they were on the same page, but… maybe it would be unwise. Who knew what she would do when she saw his unbearable smile again?

Anya was watching nonsense television when someone knocked on their door. Instead of risking an encounter, she tiptoed to her room, hearing Maria greet Dmitry behind her, hoping no one would notice her absence. It wasn’t long before Maria barged into her room.

Anya didn’t look up from her book, wanting to appear nonchalant. “Who was that?” 

“The person you’ve been avoiding,” Maria answered, crossing her arms.

Anya groaned. “I’m not avoiding him any more than usual.”

“Sure.” The word that meant Maria didn’t believe a word. “Why do you flee the scene every time he knocks on the door?”

“I don’t—”

“Is it because you finally realized he’s not so bad?”

“Nope,” she said, turning a page. “That won’t change any time soon.”

Maria sighed, exasperated. “Whatever you say, Nastya. Just know that you can’t avoid him forever.”

A few days later Anya met up with their brother, Alexei, for breakfast downtown. They tried to meet up regularly, since they were incredibly close as children but both fell into busy schedules. She loved hearing about his life in grad school and his bright future as a doctor. 

Today they decided to stop at a coffee shop on their way back. Something about the logo was… familiar. Anya couldn’t put a finger on where she’d seen it before, but she had no reason to object to a coffee to-go.

Horror crashed down when she made eye-contact with the barista.

How had she not realized this was the place he worked?? Dmitry’s smirk made her stomach roll, and she hated how her gaze kept flickering down to the pair of lips she very willingly kissed, hated how his forearms looked with his sleeves rolled up and a stained apron hanging crooked over his shirt collar.

“Nastya?” Alexei’s voice pulled her out of her shock. “Do you want anything?”

“How about a surprise?” Dmitry asked and immediately started punching something into the computer. Surprise, indeed.

Alexei gave her a quizzical look but they paid wordlessly. Anya tried not to watch Dmitry whip together their drinks effortlessly but it was almost mesmerizing.

“That was… weird.” Alexei shook his head.

“What?”

“There were some strange vibes going on.”

Dmitry called their names for their order— he had prepared her usual, she realized as she avoided his gaze— and they left. Outside, Alexei brought it up again. 

“Did you know that guy? Or…”

Anya sighed. “Unfortunately. He’s our neighbor.”

“Ah. I see.”

One of Alexei’s greatest qualities was he didn’t pry. Did Anya think he could tell something was up? Yes. Was he going to say anything about it? Nope. Brothers were underrated. 

The next night Anya was alone again, Maria having left in a flurry of excitement for her second date with Pierre. Her words kept rattling in her mind, making it impossible to focus on her book.

Anya sighed. She couldn’t wait forever. 

Her knock was softer than usual. So soft that Dmitry opened the door almost immediately. His hair a mess, he wore an old band T-shirt and checkered pants, looking soft and vulnerable and not at all how she was used to seeing him. For a second he seemed shocked to see her, but he covered it up instantly with a smirk. 

“Finally back for more, huh?” 

Ugh. Never mind. 

She started to turn around when he called, “Wait!” She kept walking. “Anya, wait, I’m sorry, I just…” he was panicking standing out in the hallway. “Sometimes I don’t know what to say to you, is all.”

All of the teasing and arrogance was gone, leaving only awkwardness and fidgety self-consciousness and a boyish confusion in its place. Anya gave him a small smile. “Can I come in?” 

He nodded immediately, relieved but still nervous, and let her through the door. Pooka ran to greet her with a wiggling tail and she scooped him up. 

For a minute they just stood there in the entrance. “Can I get you anything?” He asked. He was running his fingers through his hair, somehow leaving it in even more distress, and then rubbing the back of his neck. She liked this version of Dmitry, she decided— the lack of bravado left room for a genuine softness and honesty she’d never seen. 

“Water would be fine,” she finally answered. 

They made their way into the kitchen and Anya set Pooka down on the floor so she could hop up on his countertop. Anything to appear relaxed. 

“Where’s Maria tonight?” He asked as he was filling a glass from the tap. 

“On date number two.” She kicked her legs happily. 

“With the same guy?”

“Yeah. I think she likes him a lot.”

“That’s good.” He handed her the glass but didn’t step away, leaning one hand against the counter instead. “Who were you with the other day? At the coffee shop?”

“Oh, that was my brother,” she said between sips.

“Ah. Makes sense. You two have the same eyes.” She didn’t know what to say to that so she just finished her water. Silence stretched on… “Do you want to talk about the other night?”

“No,” she said immediately. She took a deep breath and her legs stilled. “But we can make out until my sister gets home.”

His grin was priceless. “Since I don’t have any other plans this evening, I don’t see why not.” With every word he moved closer.

The teasing was back but for once she wasn’t annoyed by it. She was actually a little relieved. “Good to know it won’t be an inconvenience to you.”

His laugh was cut off when she closed the gap, her hands already tangled up in his hair. Not much was said after that. 

* * *

It was agreed that Maria couldn’t find out, obviously. Both Dmitry and Anya were the worst when it came to swallowing their pride. For now, at least, Dmitry was fine with stolen kisses every once in a while. Whatever he could get. 

Other than that not much had changed. He still brought them coffee, he still came over way too often, she still found something to argue about, but that undercurrent of rage was gone, leaving only a playful annoyance in its place. And— well. More kissing, but that was a given. Anya kept catching him off guard. Running into him on the bus on their way home, appearing in his doorway after dinner, holding his hand when no one was around. He needed more warning sometimes. But something told him there was no preparing when it came to Anastasia Romanov. 

He was working on his book again— or really just staring at his keyboard— when there was a single knock on his door immediately followed by Anya letting herself in.

He nearly threw his glasses off his face before smiling. “What a lovely surprise.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wanted to ask if— wait,” she stepped towards the table and picked up his glasses. “Are these yours?”

“I— Uh, well—”

“I didn’t know you needed glasses!” Despite his protests she put them on her own face and raised her eyebrows. “Wow, you’re really blind, huh.”

“I really only use them when I’m writing,” he said, hating the blush creeping up his neck.

“That’s why you’re so blind!” 

“I’m not—”

“Here, put them on.”

“No!”

She was giggling and sat on his lap, trying to stick the glasses onto his face while he kept dodging them. “I wanna see what you look like!”

“No! It’s embarrassing!”

She grabbed his face and leaned in close. “Too bad.” He finally gave up, letting her slide them behind his ears and place them onto the bridge of his nose, brushing away the unruly hair on his forehead. “There. Now you can appreciate my makeup today.”

He blinked up at her. She was still playing with his hair, studying her work, hand looped around his neck, legs crossed in his lap. “Will you shame me forever?” He asked softly. 

She shook her head and murmured, “They suit you.”

He swallowed and a blush colored his cheeks. For some reason he was afraid to break this fragile moment, wishing he could live in it forever, just the two of them. 

When he leaned in she stopped him with a finger on his lips. “You’re not allowed to mess up my makeup!”

He sighed and looped his arms around her. “What’s the occasion?”

“Dinner night with Maria.”

Ah. Right. It was Thursday. “I’d hate to make you late for that.” Her smile told him she knew he meant the opposite. “You were going to ask me something?”

“Oh, right.” Pooka padded over and Anya paused to pick him up and set him on her lap. “I was thinking… if you want to keep giving me kisses, we should probably go on an actual date.”

He grinned. “You’d willingly go out with me in public? I should kiss you more often.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Okay, okay.” he kissed her forehead. “You pick a place for dinner Saturday.” 

“Can it be fancy?”

“Of course. Only luxurious meals for us.”

* * *

Dinner wasn’t too bad. Maria was, once again, on her own date, so Anya thankfully didn’t have to think of an excuse to explain why she was dressing up and why she was voluntarily spending time with Dmitry. 

He greeted her at the door, wearing a suit jacket over a button up and slacks, with an “I’m surprised you haven’t backed out of this yet.”

“There’s still time,” and a smile was her response. 

On their way downstairs he said, “You look nice,” gesturing to her dress.

“Nicer than normal?” she teased.

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “That wasn’t my finest moment.” 

“It could’ve been worse.”

A quiet beat passed before he spoke again. “So… the other day you said I couldn’t kiss you and mess up your makeup.”

She looked up at him, not understanding where this was going.

“So… is tonight the same?”

She grinned. “You have my permission to mess up my makeup later. Because it’s only for you and a random girl in the bathroom who will tell me I look nice while we wash our hands.”

That got a laugh out of him.

Later, sitting in a booth, they had the most civil conversation they’d ever had. It turned out Dmitry was a fantastic listener. Anya talked about her work as a case manager for immigrants and refugees, Dmitry talked about being stuck on his book as his deadline loomed ominously close, and they both patiently listened and asked questions. She hadn’t realized that, despite knowing him for months, she really didn’t know much about him. Or more likely she refused to learn until now. 

The restaurant was right on the canal that ran through the city, so after they finished they decided to take a little walk, watching the moonlight and streetlamps dance on the water, listening to various conversations and the occasional street performer, a gentle breeze at their backs. 

“Can I ask you something?” Dmitry said.

“That depends on what you’re asking,” she answered coyly. 

He smiled but there was no teasing in his eyes. “Are we… do you think we can make this work?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like— do you think we can keep dating. And stuff.”

“Oh.” She chewed on her lip for a second, looking up at him. He was completely serious— and uncertain. If he would take his hand out of his pocket she could hold it with reassurance. “I think so.”

He lit up. “You do?”

“Yes,” she nodded firmly but he was still fidgeting. “Wait— did you think I was going to say no?”

“I don’t know! Sometimes you’re hard to read!”

“Do I make you nervous?” she giggled.

“No! Well, I mean—” he took a deep breath. “Honestly, I… this is all new to me, I guess. And… my one true talent is messing up every good thing in my life, so I really don’t want to mess up… this.”

Anya stared up at him in surprise. How difficult was this admission? Gone was the arrogant guy who lived next door, what was left when the hard exterior layers were peeled away was this strange, new, remarkable Dmitry. Deciding she’d waited long enough, she pulled his hand out of his pocket and laced her fingers through his. “I think we’re worth a real try.”

He finally grinned, lifting her hand to kiss the back of it. “Me too.”

Not a bad night, indeed.

* * *

Dmitry didn’t have to wait long when he knocked on their door. Anya answered— today was her day off and Dmitry just got off his shift. Maria was still at work.

“Do you have a hair dryer?” he asked.

“Umm…” she raised an eyebrow. “What could you possibly need a hair dryer for?”

He shrugged. “I need to give Pooka a bath.”

She still looked confused. “Don’t dogs just… air dry?”

“Bigger dogs, yeah. But he could get an ear infection if it doesn’t dry fast enough, and his fur gets matted, and—”

“You’re both so high maintenance,” she muttered. “Fine. But I’m helping. And in return you can make me dinner next week at some point.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

Pooka was a very compliant dog until it came to the bathtub. Dmitry always hated putting him through this, but it was cheaper than sending him to the professional groomers, and it didn’t take as long. Anya proved to be helpful, making sure to massage the shampoo into Pooka’s fur, holding him still when it was time to rinse, keeping the blow dryer from getting too close to his skin, giggling when he’d shake and spray water all over them. Finally, the dog was clean, and he happily accepted his compensation banana treats. 

She lingered in the kitchen, not quite ready to go back next door yet. “We should probably figure out what to do about Maria.”

He sighed and closed his refrigerator. “You’re right.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong— sneaking around has been fun…”

He smiled, reaching over to take her hand. “... But you think it’s time to tell her.”

“Yes. I just— she’s going to find out eventually, and I’d rather it be from me. I don’t want her to think I’m keeping something from her.”

“Agreed.” He nodded. This little bubble had been nice, with no one influencing how they got along, but they had to face reality at some point if they were going to last. “Do you want me to be there when it’s time?”

“No, I should probably break it to her first.”

“Okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

But before Anya had figured out what she was going to say, Maria beat her to the punch.

“So how long have you been sleeping with Dmitry?”

Anya choked on her soda, the carbonation burning her nose, making her voice gravelly. “I’m not— why do you think I—”

Maria laughed. “You’re both so similar.”

“I’m not— with  _ him? _ Really?” This was the perfect opening but Anya simply wasn’t ready. So, denial was all she had. 

Maria rolled her eyes. “Fine. Then you’ll be happy to know I found someone to set you up with.” 

Anya groaned and stood from the table. “I’m not  _ interested—” _

“He’s one of Pierre’s friends, he owns an art gallery in the city, and he’s very kind! What more could you ask for?”

“I said I’m not interested! That’s all!”

Maria followed her into the living room. “How could you not be interested if you don’t even know what he looks like?”

“I just— I’m not looking for someone right now! Why is that not a satisfying answer?”

“Is it because you’re already seeing someone?”

“You know what, fine! Maybe it is!” Anya buried her face in her hands and fell into the couch, hiding her scarlet cheeks. She couldn’t take it anymore. “I may or may not have gone on a few dates with Dmitry.”

“You  _ what?” _

“It’s not like we— well, it started kind of recently, and—” she stuttered before giving up. Maria was cackling. Anya didn’t think her face could redden any further. “You’re not mad?”

“No!” Maria said, catching her breath. “You two have been acting so  _ weird _ lately. I knew something was up.”

Anya sighed. “I was going to tell you, I just… couldn’t find the words.”

“And you hate admitting when you’re wrong.”

“That too.”

Maria sat next to her feet, the tone shifting to something more serious. “Do you like him?”

Anya removed her hands from her face and sat up. “Yeah. I like him a lot.”

Maria grinned. “That’s all I need to know.”

* * *

Before Dmitry and Anya got together, they’d avoid any physical contact like the plague. Now he couldn’t keep his hands to himself and Anya was the same way. Always holding hands under the table, fingers laced, or resting a hand on a knee, or knotted in hair, gliding across shoulders, giving comforting squeezes. Resting heads or feet in laps on the couch, an arm around a waist or neck. A kiss hello, a lingering touch goodbye.

The night for the promised dinner arrived. Anya kept asking what he was planning on making, but Dmitry kept his lips sealed, not wanting to spoil the surprise.

He was climbing the steps, grocery bags in hand, when a frail voice stopped him.

“Young man?”

It was the elderly lady that lived across the hall. He’d never caught her name, even after living here for years. “Yes?”

“Are you seeing that young lady from room 204?”

He grinned proudly. Anya didn’t want anyone other than Maria to know, but there was no harm in telling her, was there? “I am.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and he squirmed. Finally, passing a wordless test, she waved him closer. He set the grocery bags on the ground and followed her to her doorway but stopped before entering. She disappeared, he knelt to greet a cat, and she returned with a periwinkle cookie tin. 

“This is for her. Tell her to stop by soon.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking the tin from her outstretched hand. He was afraid if he touched her she’d flake away, so he stepped backwards.

She held a crooked finger up to his face. “This is  _ only _ for her, hear?”

He blinked. “Yes?”

“If you hurt her, we have the right to kick you out of the building.”

He didn’t know who “we” was but he had no reason to question the severity of her threat. He swallowed. “You don’t have to worry about that, I promise.”

“You better.” With that, she smiled sweetly, reminding him of Anya’s trouble-making grin, before closing her door. 

He stood in the hallway, dumbfounded, before he remembered his plans for the evening. Anya answered his knock almost immediately, looking radiant in a blue skirt. 

“Ready?” he asked after a second. “I’ve got the groceries.”

“Yes let me just— oh!” She saw the tin still in his hand. “Is that for me?”

“Yeah, it’s from—”

She took it and opened the lid, inhaling the scent of whatever was inside. “She makes the best baklava. We can have some for our dessert tonight.”

He smiled. “Sounds good.”

“Last chance, Maria,” she called. Maria poked her head up from the couch. “I’m assuming there’ll be plenty for the three of us.”

“And spend the night third-wheeling? Pass,” Maria responded. “You two have fun though. Bring back leftovers.”

“We will!”

“And don’t be stupid.”

“We won’t.”

Anya helped him carry the groceries into the kitchen and set them all on the counter. After greeting Pooka while he unloaded the bags, she asked, “Are you going to tell me what we’re making or are you still trying to be mysterious?”

He grinned. “Does pizza sound good?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You mean you spent all that time in the frozen section? Lame.”

“No, no! We’re making it.” He slapped a bag of flour on the counter. “From  _ scratch.” _

“Ah.” She pulled out some more ingredients from the plastic bags. “Won’t that take a long time? I’m starving.”

“All good food takes time.”

She groaned. “Is it even going to be good? How do I know you’re not just trying to impress me?”

He laughed. “Trust me, this is one of the only things I know how to do.”

It was true. He felt more comfortable in the kitchen than anywhere else, knowing how to mix seasonings together to his liking, recipes sticking in his memory easily. 

Anya, however, wasn’t as confident— this was the first time he found something she wasn’t immediately good at. She seemed to be having fun, though. After the dough was done and risen they argued over the various toppings they had available, simmering sausage on the stove and sprinkling basil and peppers and meats, shredding three types of cheeses.

Later, sitting at the table, they dug into their slices. Anya moaned, “Okay, this was worth the labor.”

He laughed. “Beats takeout any day, huh?”

“Why did you decide to be a writer instead of a chef? Like, this is amazing.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, thinking. “I guess cooking is more personal? It’s not something I need to share with… the world, I don’t know.” She was studying him, waiting for him to continue. “Like it’s more rewarding to share food with you than a couple hundred strangers I’ll never meet face to face.”

She nodded, sipping her wine. “What made you want to write, then? I don’t think I’ve ever asked that.”

He swallowed the last bite of his pizza and reached over for another one. “I like learning about people and their stories,” he said simply. “That was enough to make me an English major, I guess.”

“What if,” she wiped her hands on her napkin and rotated to face him, one foot resting on the seat, the antithesis of what it meant to be ladylike. “What if, after you finish your book, you start a food blog or something.”

He grinned. “I did something like that for a college project.”

“Or you could write a cookbook! Or edit it, or something.”

“That could be fun…” he finished his second slice. “I don’t know that I’m capable of a project like that.”

“Are you kidding me?” she gestured to where his laptop and pile of notes was sitting. “You’re working on an impossibly big project now and you’re almost done! That takes talent and practice and discipline. You could probably write anything you want.”

Dmitry felt his chest squeeze. When had anyone believed in him with so much conviction? Why did he think he needed validation from anyone else? What had he been doing before now?

He brushed a knuckle over her cheek, tucking a hair back, before leaning in, lips moving gently, and when she wrapped her hands around his torso, he hoped she understood all of the words written in his chest he couldn’t breathe aloud.

* * *

“Dmitry?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you had many lovers?”

“What?” He laughed, an out of place noise in the dark. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious,” she whispered with a shrug.

He sighed. “I wouldn’t call them lovers.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t love them.”

There was a pause. “What does that make me?”

He leaned over and kissed her softly. “Everything.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more fluff, less plot, bc we're all out here wishing a dmitry lived next door and quarantine wasn't a thing

Dmitry woke up with a tangle of hair in his face and a waist under his arm. He smiled into her neck, stretching his legs, trying not to break the quiet air of the morning. Finally he decided a surprise Saturday breakfast would be more productive than accidentally waking her up with his restless energy.

A while later, Anya padded into the kitchen, blue eyes glaring despite her sleepiness. He grinned at her small frame enveloped by one of his T-shirts.

“I can’t believe you didn’t cuddle with me,” she grumbled as a good morning.

“I did, you just slept through it.”

“Because I sleep until a normal hour in the mornings.” She was grumpy but still let him plant a kiss on her head and wrap an arm around her shoulders as she nestled close to his side.

He laughed. “Pooka needed to go out. And—” he gestured to the crowded stove, flipping a pancake over with flourish, “— I wanted to impress you with a breakfast buffet.”

“Hmm.” She broke off a piece of crispy bacon and nibbled on it. “You impressed me enough last night. With— the pizza, I mean.”

He kissed her reddened cheek. “Right. The pizza.”

The morning was more perfect than he thought possible. He didn’t think this was something he could tire from, waking up with her under his arm, bantering over his favorite food, content. Perhaps the spread was a little ambitious— scrambled eggs, pancakes, bacon, a bowl of fruit, yogurt to scoop from, milk and juice for beverages— but it didn’t matter because the feast meant she would stay longer. And she got to listen to him brag about his breakfast-cooking abilities.

“I don’t think I’ve ever made pancakes for anyone,” he said, his mouth full. “They’re too delicious to share.”

She rolled her eyes fondly. “Well then, I feel special.”

More than she knew.

* * *

“Maria?” Anya started, biting her lip. They were folding laundry with a sitcom playing quietly for background noise.

“Yeah?”

“Has… has Pierre said he loves you?”

Maria made a noise in the back of her throat. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, I’m just… curious I guess.”

There was a pause as her sister considered her question. “Yeah, he has.”

“How did he say it?”

“Well, we were watching TV in his apartment one night and… he just said it.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I loved him too, of course.” Her tone was sarcastic but there was a beaming smile hiding under her expression. Anya allowed herself a moment to be happy for her. “Wait— are you asking because—”

“No.”

“Has Dmitry said he loves you? Or have you—”

“No! I mean… well, he sort of said something the other night…?”

“How do you ‘sort of say it’?”

“I don’t know!” The conversation had been echoing in her mind for days.  _ What does that make me? Everything. _ “It was… implied. But it wasn’t like, obvious, or clear, or anything. And he’s been acting… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just overthinking this.”

“No, no! What did you say?”

Anya didn’t answer. 

“Never mind,” Maria waved her hand. “I don’t want to know. But… do you think you’re in love with him?”

After a minute, Anya whispered, “Yeah, I think I am.”

Maria grinned. “Then tell him.”

“How?”

“Just—” she stood up and pulled Anya up with her. “Just say it. No big gestures, no special plans, no overthinking— just say it.”

“Like, right now?”

“Yes!” 

“Yes?”

“Yes!”

“Okay!” Anya nodded, a firm resolve settling in her jaw. “I’ll go over there right now!”

“Yes!”

Anya marched determinedly down the hall to his apartment, adrenaline pumping through to her fist as she pounded on the door. But when he answered, he wasn’t alone. An older gentleman with a wiry beard and playful eyes greeted her instead, looking surprised to see her.

“Dmitry!” he called over his shoulder. “You have another guest.”

Dmitry appeared behind him almost immediately and a grin bloomed on his face. She was welcomed inside with a kiss to her hand and an introduction to the stranger, apparently Vlad, Dmitry’s old publisher and longtime friend.

“So this is the lovely Anya I’ve heard so much about,” Vlad smiled approvingly as they made their way to the kitchen. 

“All good things, I hope.”

“Nothing but praise!” he exclaimed with an energy she didn’t realize anyone was capable of possessing. She decided to like him. 

Dmitry was rubbing the red creeping up his neck. “Vlad’s over for the night, we ordered takeout if you want to stay?”

“Can Maria come?”

“Always.”

“Good, I’ll go get her.”

“Wait,” she turned before stepping out of the doorway. “Did you need something?”

Her heart tripped over itself when she remembered what she came here for. She knew Maria’s words were wise, there was never going to be a perfect opportunity, but this was definitely not it. Instead she merely shook her head. “Just wanted to see you.”

Maria was unimpressed with Anya’s excuse. “You two are a piece of work,” she said, shaking her head. “Come on. Lets go crash the boys’ party.”

They made their way next door and Vlad turned out to be fantastic company. Dmitry had ordered from their favorite ramen restaurant down the street and they all sat at the table, Anya holding his hand in her lap, laughing as if they’d been friends for years. If a life like this felt this right, then there was no harm waiting— after all, there were plenty of other ways to say how she felt.

* * *

Dmitry thought he was wise when it came to money. He was a frugal spender, with not much to spend anyway, but every once in a while he’d indulge himself with something special.

Today he carried up his new prize to his apartment and leaned it against the wall. Smiling with pride, he stepped back, happy with his decision.

Until Anya saw it.

“Dmitry?”

“Yes?”

“What is that?”

“Oh!” He stood up from the table, grinning. “This is my new bike!”

She stared blankly. “For… what?”

“For riding!” He pulled it from the wall and wiggled the front wheel to emphasize the point. “No more smelly bus commutes for me!”

Anya laughed. Like, hands on her knees, snorting through her nose laugh. “You? Riding a bike through town?”

He crossed his arms. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing! I—” she continued laughing, which negated what she was saying. “I just never thought you’d want to ride a bike here, is all. Won’t the helmet mess up your hair?”

He rolled his eyes at her teasing. “Ha ha, funny.”

“And won’t you be all sweaty when you get to work? How will you cope?”

“All right, I see your point.”

“Hang on, I need to go get Maria so she can agree with me.”

“That’s not necessary—”

“Maria!” she stuck her head out the door to call down the hall. “Dmitry bought a bike!”

Maria’s cackle was loud enough for him to hear. 

“Is that all?” He asked.

“Yes. I’m done making fun of you for now.” she stood on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. “Can we please go to dinner?”

“As long as you don’t say anything about my new ride.”

She was barely holding it together but he didn’t mind. “Fine.”

In the end, though, she turned out to be right. The first time he rode it to work he was drenched in sweat and looked more flustered and humiliated all day than he needed to be. The bike lanes weren’t as safe as he thought, he soon found out after too many close encounters with vehicles and pedestrians alike. It was lonelier, too, moving too fast to wave hi to strangers and moving too slow to follow the bus he would ride with Anya. He thought maybe it could be good for exercising but he preferred his morning runs.

Swallowing his pride, he sold it to the gentleman on the first floor, marching back up the steps with his head lowered in defeat. Anya rewarded him by not rubbing it in his face when he stood next to her on the bus. But, honestly, he wouldn’t have minded, since he missed their shared commute.

Later, after many years of stubbornly refusing to admit it was time to let go of the past, Dmitry finally broke down… and purchased a new couch.

He was rather pleased with this decision. It would look nice in his living room, the cushions weren’t ripped or stained, it didn’t smell vaguely of beer and cheese. But there was just one problem he didn’t consider: how was he supposed to carry it all the way up to his apartment??

He stared at the thing in the lobby and scratched his head. Maybe Maria’s boyfriend was here and could help. Maybe Dmitry needed more guy friends.

However, when he ran up to their floor and knocked on the door, Anya answered, informing him that Maria wasn’t home but his lovely girlfriend was available, in case he wasn’t aware.

He pursed his lips. “Do you know anyone who can help me carry my new couch up here?”

“Didn’t… aren’t the delivery guys supposed to do that?” she asked.

“Are they?” When she stared blankly at him he shrugged defensively. “I’ve never bought a couch before! I didn’t ask!”

She shook her head. “Is it just in the lobby?”

“Yeah. And the elevator isn’t working today.”

“Great.” She shrugged off her cardigan and slid on her shoes. “Let’s go then.”

“Wait— what are you coming down for?”

“To help, obviously.”

“With the couch?”

“What else?” He tried to hide the doubt in his eyes but she saw right through him. “I’m tough! I can lift things!”

“But…” she raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms at the word. “You’re so small.”

He regretted it immediately. She marched up to him, dangerously close, and said, “That hasn’t stopped me before.”

He turned scarlet and she shoved him back a step so she could come out of the doorway. Rubbing his neck, he followed her, a couple paces behind, wondering what exactly he’d gotten himself into.

It went about as well as he expected. Anya could lift the couch, but things got difficult on the narrow stairwell, where they had to squeeze the thing through the doorway and by some miracle pivot it around the railing. For some reason the heat rose a good ten degrees while they labored, the couch felt heavier the more steps they reached, their patience drained the longer this took. Finally, they trudged through his apartment door, nearly dragging the mistake of a purchase in exhaustion and annoyance. 

The couch found its spot in the living room where the old one used to rest. Dmitry collapsed into it, and Anya followed suit, irritated but still sitting against him under his arm as if by default. They were quiet for a few minutes before she said, “Your old couch was comfier.”

He laughed, tired and losing his mind a little. “You can go get it back if you want, I can’t do that again.”

“With these muscles?” She squeezed his forearm resting on her shoulder. “You’re fine, drama queen.” Another quiet moment passed. “I don’t think I can get up.”

“Don’t,” he wrapped his other arm around her. “You make this couch more comfortable. And I need to thank you for helping me when I was complaining.”

She hummed, satisfied. “We can watch a cheesy romance movie you’ll hate and call it even.”

“Deal.”

* * *

It was a very rare occasion when Anya had to bring work home.

She tried to keep that part of her life separate from the rest, since what she had to deal with was usually, while rewarding, pretty heavy on her heart, and compartmentalizing it was the only way to keep herself sane, but every once in a while the demands piled too high for her to complete before five o’clock. The hardest part was meeting the haunted faces who’d seen unimaginable horrors, making Anya feel like there wasn’t any power in the world strong enough to help them. Some refugee families needed extra attention before she could find proper locations for them to live and that meant more paperwork. Good thing the paperwork was the easy part, if not time-consuming.

Their apartment was office-less so she had her laptop and her confidential forms spread out across the dining table, typing and scribbling away. She was halfway through this report when Dmitry barged in. He gave her a kiss on the cheek but she wouldn’t let him try anything else, determined to remain focused until her work was finished. 

“Come on, you’ve been at this for hours!” He said, sitting next to her. “Why not take a break?”

“Don’t you have a novel to write?”

“Not after dinner, because that’s not how healthy relationships with jobs work.”

She groaned. “I can’t take a break because, knowing you, it’ll turn into something longer and I won’t want to get anything done.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Go annoy Maria,” she said, pushing his face away.

“But Maria won’t kiss me when I annoy her.”

“Neither will I!”

He laughed, irresistible, despite her irritation. “Fine. Do you have dinner plans?”

She shrugged. “There’s a hot pocket in the freezer, I don’t really have time for much else.”

“That won’t do!” He gasped in mock offense. “At least let me make myself useful and make  _ you _ something worth eating.”

She finally smiled, relenting. “As long as you’re quiet about it and let me finish in peace.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned when she let him give her a quick kiss.

Sure, maybe he was still irritating, but they were getting pretty good at compromises, and that had to count for something.

* * *

Maria seemed less and less annoyed with “third-wheeling,” as she called it, and Dmitry was glad. He enjoyed her company as much as he did when she first moved in and of course Anya loved spending time with her sister. The three of them frequented bars on weekends, shared their living spaces for movie nights, and chatted for hours over dinner, as if nothing had changed. She even seemed less opposed to them kissing in front of her, which was a plus, because he could always spend more time kissing Anya.

While Maria was out on another date one evening Dmitry popped in with dinner and microwave popcorn and declared a surprise movie night. It started off great. Anya crawled on top of him and rested her head on his chest, stretched out on the couch, as they browsed through Netflix. But only minutes into the movie Anya was out, and then the night went from good to wonderful. She softened when she was asleep, ready to cuddle, holding tight, and he smiled into her hair, one hand absent-mindedly threading its fingers through her curls.

This had become a pattern. Not this exact instance, perhaps, but the pair of them could fall asleep anywhere, no matter the time or the noisiness or the uncomfortable position. Were they both just perpetually tired? Maybe. Either way it wasn’t uncommon to find himself tangled up with her in the randomest spots of their apartments. Sometimes they even dozed on the crowded bus.

Maria’s entrance wasn’t too terribly noisy but he still shushed her. “Anya had a long day at work,” he whispered as a meek explanation.

Maria sighed. “That’s uncharacteristically sweet of you.”

“Shut up.” She laughed quietly. “Look, I know you’ve got a rule against guys spending the night here—”

“It’s not  _ my _ rule, we both agreed to it.”

“Fine. But… could you make an exception?”

“No.”

“Look!” He gestured with his free hand at his predicament. “She has left me no choice! I can’t get up without waking her up—”

“Looks like you’re gonna have to try.”

He huffed. “But I’m comfy.”

“Too bad, Mitya.”

“And what? Leave her out here on the couch?”

“No, stupid, you’re strong, carry her to bed.” She crossed her arms, refusing to go until she was sure he would obey.

Finally he sighed. “All right.”

After some careful maneuvering and shuffling around, he was able to rise from the couch, stretch, and lift her into his arms. Maria nodded and left. Apparently that was enough to convince her he was a gentleman. He quietly padded into Anya’s room and set her into the unmade bed, gingerly lifting the comforter up and over to her shoulders, brushing the hair out of her face, wishing he could stay. Instead he left a kiss on her forehead. For now, that would have to be enough.

* * *

Every once in a while Anya met Dmitry at the cafe before his shift ended. She would chat with him and his coworker, Marfa, while they cleaned up, watching them work, mesmerized by how quickly his hands moved. Flying over the computer panel, squeezing syrups, lifting hissing nozzles into cups, wiping messy fingers onto his apron, pouring frothed milk into perfect, delicate patterns. When she wasn’t distracting him it was actually a pretty good atmosphere to get some of her paperwork done, too. The busy rush of people coming and going, paired with the gentle music playing, was the perfect ambience for productivity.

Dmitry was wiping down the countertop when she started packing up her work bag and leaned over the register to ask for a kiss. He complied, now that his shift was over, but pulled away quickly so he could take off his apron, eager to be rid of the place. 

“You guys are so gross,” Marfa said from the sink.

Anya laughed. She thought if they’d met earlier in life they could’ve been lifelong friends. “Can you blame me?”

That got a snort and Anya was pleased with this reaction.

Dmitry came around the counter to give her a proper hug hello. “Did you have a productive day?”

“I did! You?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Busy shift. Oh, this morning before I came in, I finished my book, so that’s something.”

He said it so casually, as if it were just another mundane chore of the day, she almost missed it. “Wait—  _ what? _ You finished it??”

“Yeah, it’s going to the publishers tomorrow.”

“Are you serious?” she stopped in her tracks before they reached the door. “That’s so exciting!! How are we celebrating tonight?”

“Oh, uh…” he rubbed his neck. “I hadn’t really thought about that.”

“Come on! We have to do  _ something. _ You’ve been working on this for months! Doesn’t it feel good to have it finished?”

“I guess.”

Frustrated by his lack of enthusiasm, she whirled around. “Marfa, want to go get drinks tonight with us?”

She shrugged. “Can I bring my boyfriend?”

“Bring whoever!”

He sighed next to her. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“It is! I’m calling Maria to meet us. And to bring Pierre.”

They all met at the bar closest to their apartment. Marfa turned out to be more social than all of them, bringing her date and three friends, and Maria brought Pierre, so they had a full party. A live band was playing and they crammed into a booth together, perfect for making new friends.

A few drinks in Dmitry asked her to come dance. She happily hopped out of her seat to take his hand, grateful to get a chance to talk in semi-privacy. 

“This has been fun,” she said over the music and voices as they swayed. “We should hang out with other people more often.”

He laughed. “Is this more fun than our usual routine? Reading and watching movies alone?”

“Well… not really. But it could be good for us to be a little more social.”

“Anya, you’re really the only person I ever need.”

She gave his hand a squeeze. “So, why were you acting so weird about the book earlier?” He sighed and tried to play it off, saying it wasn’t that important, but she interrupted him. “It  _ is. _ Something’s bothering you, it’s written all up here.” She poked his forehead and he grinned.

“I don’t know. I guess, if it doesn’t get published, I won’t be as disappointed trying to explain myself if I don’t make it a big deal.”

That was definitely a big thing to admit. “It will be published, and we’ll celebrate again when it does. For now we’re here to celebrate the fact that you wrote a  _ whole book. _ Aren’t you at least a little proud of yourself?”

He smiled, biting his lip. “I guess I am, a little.”

“You should be! Because I am.”

He blinked down at her, then pulled her closer so he could give her a warm kiss, making her forget where they were, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on what emotion was in his eyes when he pulled away. “Thank you.”

The song ended and they decided to rejoin their friends at the table. Sure, Anya preferred quiet nights at home, but a busy evening like this every once in a while deserved a moment of recognition for its perks.

* * *

Dmitry woke to the sound of his bedroom door squeaking open. 

She was trying to be quiet. It was a work night for both of them, so he wondered what compelled her to climb out of her own bed, to find the emergency key he left under his doormat and crawl into his space, to snuggle into his back and drape her arm and leg over him.

“You okay?” he whispered, grabbing the hand pressed to his chest.

“Yeah, just can’t sleep,” she whispered back into his hair. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No, it’s fine, I was already awake. Is there something wrong?”

“Not really, I just… today was a long day. Or yesterday now, I guess.”

He rolled over to his stomach and turned his head so he could look at her through sleepy eyes and a layer of darkness. Somehow her eyes seemed to still glow bright, despite the lack of light in the room. Her eyelids hung heavy too, but she wore a troubled expression he wished he could snap away, while she rested on her side with one hand tucked under the pillow and the other tracing the lines on his forearm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess I’m worried about this family I’m trying to place. They went through a lot before getting here, and they just want to open a bakery, but I don’t think I can find the resources…” she trailed off. “Sometimes it’s hard to feel this powerless.”

“You’ll get them there,” he said with every ounce of conviction he could muster. “I don’t think you realize you can accomplish whatever you set your mind to.”

She sighed. “I don’t know. This is proving to be a bigger process than usual for some reason, and I’m just— I’m just frustrated that no one else seems to care about them and how even though they’ve struggled so much and want so little, it’s almost impossible to give it to them.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m the right person for this.”

“Hey, of course you are! You know why?” He rolled to his side to mirror her, intertwining their fingers. “Because you  _ care. _ You’re losing sleep and working extra hours at home, you’re trying your best to help people in need, you’re not giving up, and… and that’s who you are.”

She studied him, reaching up to brush a stray hair from his forehead. “You’re remarkable, you know that right?”

He smiled and tucked his head into the crook of her neck and wrapped his arm around her waist. “I know I am, because you chose me.”

* * *

“You’re thinking about something,” Dmitry murmured, voice raspy. He propped himself up on an elbow to smile down at her, making the bed squeak, the lazy afternoon sunlight breaking through his window and dancing across his tousled hair.

There was a pause as Anya blinked up at him, sighing slowly. She reached up to brush the hair falling over his forehead. “I really love you here,” she whispered, threading her fingers through the strands. He froze. Her touch moved down to smooth his eyebrows and the spot between them, where a crease formed when he was lost in a tunnel of thoughts. “And here.” She glided her fingers down the bridge of his nose and he scrunched it with a smile. “And here…” she continued, running over his lips, and then landing in that one dimple that never seemed to fade from his cheek. “And I really love you here, more than I probably should.”

He caught her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. She didn’t let go of his, rubbing her thumb across the back, memorizing the rise and fall of the veins and tendons and calluses. “I love you here, too. But I love you most…” She let her fingers trail down over his throat and collar bone, finally coming to rest on his chest, pressing her palm where his heart beat steady and sure underneath his warm skin, “here.”

His chest swelled with a humble breath. She looked up from where her hand was pressed to him, and in his eyes was the same love she felt reflected back at her, overflowing, abundant. He brushed a hair from her face and leaned down, his kiss as light and gentle as the string connecting them, and he whispered, “I love you, too.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a Long one and it took me a Long Time to write, I hope y'all enjoy some more soft domesticity!

“Maria,” Anya stormed through the door of their apartment, “you’ll  _ never _ believe what just happened.”

“Is this a good or bad ‘just happened’?” Maria called from the kitchen, sounding like she was containing a laugh. 

“I don’t know yet.” Anya huffed and fell over the arm of the couch to stare at the ceiling. “Dmitry just asked me to move in with him.”

_ “What?” _ Maria’s head popped from behind the wall separating the living room from the kitchen. “What did you tell him?”

“I may have… panicked.”

“Why?” Maria still had a smile in her voice when she found a spot on the couch and placed a hand on Anya’s shoulder. “What happened?”

At this point it sounded silly to explain. Anya had been next door, of course, which wasn’t unusual by now, curled up on the couch after dinner with Netflix playing on the TV, and she was becoming  _ very _ interested in whatever wonder he was doing to her neck when he brought it up. 

“Anya?” He hummed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Can it wait?” She mumbled with a tug in his hair. 

“So impatient,” he laughed. “No, I wanna ask you now.”

“What is it?”

“Well, you know, you’ve been staying here a lot lately, and a bunch of your stuff is already all over the apartment anyway, and I don’t know, I was thinking maybe… you could stay?”

Her nose scrunched. “What do you mean?”

“I— would you want to move in with me?”

She froze. “Why?”

“I don’t know? I thought maybe you’d like to? Pooka adores you? Do I have to have a special reason?”

“No, it’s just that— there’s not really a point.” She was rambling now, excuses spilling out of her mouth to cover up her lackluster reaction. “I’m right next door, it feels kind of unnecessary?”

“Yeah but like… the gesture of it all… I don’t know, I thought we were ready.”

“Then why wouldn’t you talk about it with me first? This is something you’re supposed to talk about.”

“I  _ am _ talking about it, that’s what I’m doing right now!”

“Well you can’t just spring these things out of nowhere! Give me warning next time!”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal! You’re over all the time anyway— you even leave a toothbrush here, for god’s sake!”

“But you can’t just—”

“Anya, just calm d—” he smacked a hand over his mouth before the words could escape, but she could see in his eyes he knew it was already too late.

“You calm down! Don’t tell me to calm down! This is a very valid reaction to being blindsided!”

“This wasn’t a blindside— I didn’t think it was—”

“Well, it is!”

“What exactly is so crazy about us living together? I don’t understand the problem!”

“Maria!”

“What?”

“What about Maria? I can’t just leave her out of the blue, we have… traditions! And— and rent! Together. And stuff. Did you think that through? I can’t leave Maria!”

“You mean you’re asking… how do you solve a problem like Maria…”

That was the breaking point. “No! Don’t you dare try to soften me with a  _ Sound of Music _ reference, you lost that privilege!”

He gasped. “Wait, Anya, I didn’t mean—”

“Goodnight, Dmitry.” She pushed herself off the couch and slammed the door shut behind her.

Once Anya finished explaining it all to her sister she huffed. “I don’t know, Maria, I don’t think I overreacted, right?”

She was surprised to hear Maria’s laughter. “Nastya, you totally overreacted.”

“Hey!” Anya kicked her shoulder. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Ow! I know, I know, it’s just—” Maria was failing miserably at composing herself, “you know what this is all about? You’re  _ terrified _ of change.”

“I am not!”

“You are! Remember when Dad’s driver went on vacation and that other guy had to drive us to school? You were so mad.”

Anya crossed her arms. “He was late every day for the first two weeks. And Ronald would always bring milkshakes for the ride home.”

“See!” Maria patted her shoulder, the tone shifting from teasing to something a little more sisterly. “Did you expect to live with your sister for the rest of your life?”

Anya shrugged. “No, I don’t know. I guess I don’t really know how to feel about this yet.”

“Well, let’s figure that out. Do you love him?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to live with him at some point?”

She bit her lip. “Well, yes, but—”

“Then you need to go back and finish your discussion.” Maria gave her one more pat and stood up. “Preferably without the yelling this time.”

Anya sighed. She hated when Maria was right.

When she knocked on his door she heard him call, “It’s open!” But she couldn’t make it past the door frame. He stared dumbly from the kitchen, neither of them saying a word or making a move. Pooka waddled over to greet Anya and she eagerly scooped him up to tuck him under her arm. A small, reassuring comfort. 

“Are you coming in?” Dmitry finally asked. He seemed more confused and weary than angry or upset, which was good. She could work with that. 

“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. 

“Let’s meet in the middle, then.”

She nodded, thankful he was always willing to compromise, even when things were prickly, and they both took one step at a time until they were standing right in front of each other. She couldn’t remember what she did when she was this angry with him, it had been so long. How had she spent the first months of her life here feeling this way all the time? She guessed she would’ve just left and ignored him until she simmered down, praying he would disappear, but they were beyond avoiding each other now. Now, she couldn’t run from the smallest disagreement, no matter how embarrassing or uncomfortable. “I’m sorry I freaked earlier.”

“No, it’s—” he rubbed his face and rested his hands on his hips, looking exhausted, “you were right. We probably should’ve talked about it first.”

“Maybe, but I definitely overreacted.”

He raised a hand to scratch behind Pooka’s ear. With a self-deprecating smile, he muttered, “Is the thought of living with me that insane?”

“No! Not at all!” She rushed to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m actually… I love that you would even want to live with me.” He raised a brow. “I’m serious!”

“Anya, you can say no, you won’t hurt my feelings.”

“No, I’m not saying no!”

“Really?”

“It’s not… I didn’t panic because of that.” She sighed. She wished they were in bed. Sometimes it was easier to talk to the back of his head when she had something this earnest to say, when he couldn’t see how vulnerable she felt. But there was no hiding now. “I guess I was worried. We’re in a really good place right now, you and me, and… I don’t know, I don’t want you to get tired of me.”

His mouth gaped. “Me? Tired of you?” Shaking his head, he gingerly took Pooka from her arms and set him down on the wood floor with a pat, then found her hands and gave them a squeeze. “Look— you’re it for me, okay? I know we haven’t talked much about the future, but I’m here for the long haul, if that’s what you want.”

She swallowed, eyes prickling, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I want that, too.”

He held her close, fingers tangling in her hair. “I know change isn’t really your thing, and that’s okay, I’m not trying to rush you into anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not saying no,” she repeated, tilting her head up to rest her chin on his chest. “Can I think about it? Will that scare you off?”

“Not a chance.”

“Let’s just… take it slow. Besides, you haven’t even met my parents yet. Or the rest of my siblings.”

“Good point,” he kissed the top of her head. “Wait— does this mean I’ll finally be invited to capital-B-Brunch??”

She grinned at his enthusiasm. “I think we’re ready for that.” His smile was worth it. “They’re gonna love you.”

“With this face, I’m unstoppable!”

“Tone it down, Dima.”

“Okay, okay,” he was still laughing at his own bravado but then he cupped her cheek with an almost angelic light touch, charging the moment once again. “We good?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, closing the distance between them with a slow kiss. “We’re good.”

* * *

Dmitry didn’t think he was the type to get jealous very often. 

Well, he remembered feeling…  _ something _ strange several months ago, back before he knew he had feelings for Anya, when he’d accompany her and Maria as a wingman at their favorite bar, and he’d feel a weird twist in his gut when she’d return a stranger’s flirtatious smile. The stubbornly proud part of him still wasn’t sure if he’d call that jealousy, per se. He didn’t even think he ever got jealous in his previous relationships either.

But now, he’d admit the emotion was something he was familiar with.

He was used to being Pooka’s favorite. Lately, though, every time Anya was over, the traitorous dog would leap from his lap and greet her with a river of kisses, and was virtually glued to her side until she left the next morning. He’d curl up on her side of the bed underneath the blankets, he’d plant himself in her lap on the couch, he’d bring her toys to play fetch with. 

“How do you get him to do that?” Dmitry asked her as he carried a tray of pasta into the living room for yet another unceremonious couch dinner. “He’s never relaxed enough to let me hold him like that.”

She was cradling Pooka like a human infant, his paws sticking up in luxurious bliss, while she rubbed his soft and pink tummy. When Dmitry sat down and set their dinner on the coffee table she reached up to poke his cheek. “It’s because you never sit still for very long.”

He rolled his eyes to hide his blush. “Yeah, well, he’s active too, it’s not like he’s a plushie toy.”

“Shh!” She held a finger to his mouth. “He is  _ asleep, _ don’t wake him up!”

Her exaggerated whisper made him laugh. “Does that mean you want me to feed you, since your arms are occupied with… a dog?”

“Yes please.”

Okay, maybe he couldn’t blame Pooka for choosing her as a favorite. It wasn’t like she wasn’t Dmitry’s favorite person, either.

He thought after the whole move-in question things would be at least a little awkward between them, but so far it hadn’t been brought up again, and it was as if it hadn’t been asked at all. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve been grateful or worried for that. Honestly, though, he knew Anya needed time to mentally adjust to anything new in her life. He was comfortable in the fact that she wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, so he wouldn’t push. They had time. 

The next day Pooka had an appointment at the vet. When he mentioned it to Anya in the morning she was worried, to his surprise. “Is he okay? What’s wrong? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“No, he’s fine!” Dmitry took her hand. They were in the middle of getting ready for work, which was always a rush. “It’s really no big deal, it’s just his annual checkup and shots. I’ll leave the shop early for his appointment and we’ll be out in an hour, tops.”

A frown still sat on her lips. “What time is it?”

“Three.”

She nodded. “I’m coming with you, then.”

“What?”

“I’m off at two today, so I’ll just meet you at the cafe?”

“Anya, I promise it’s nothing exciting or serious.”

She just shrugged. “I know.” When he only blinked in response she sighed, pulled her purse over her shoulder, and rose onto her toes to give him a quick peck. “Come on, we’re going to be late for the bus.” 

He was still standing in the middle of the entryway when his mind caught up to what that interaction meant. She was willing to take time out of her undoubtedly busy day to sit in a smelly waiting room with him, even if it wasn’t a big deal. Yeah, he had the big events like the upcoming Romanov family brunch to look forward to, but the fact that she even wanted to spend her time with him in the most mundane and boring parts of his life spoke wonders. He wanted that, he realized. A life of mundane, domestic, normal activities strung together with her by his side. 

If she was weirded out by his unusually dorky grin on the bus commute to work, she didn’t mention it. 

* * *

“You invited Mitya to  _ brunch?” _

Anya sighed and closed the washing machine. “It’s not like it wouldn’t have happened eventually.”

“But is he ready?”

“I mean… if he’s not ready now, will he ever be?”

Maria finished loading the dryer and handed her the heavy laundry basket of towels. “I only ask because… well, you know how our family is. The poor guy could get pretty overwhelmed if he’s not prepared.”

“Are you trying to make me doubt my relationship?” Anya asked, sarcasm hiding the uncertainty swirling in her gut as they folded dish towels. 

“Of course not,” Maria answered gently. “But meeting the family is one thing, and Sunday brunch is a pretty big deal.”

It was. Their traditional family brunches weren’t sacred, per se, but they were definitely a significant and exclusive event for the Romanovs. Usually when an outsider was invited they were considered part of the family. The last time a boyfriend came, he and Tatiana were married next spring. “Look. I told him I’d think about moving in with him, and I don’t know, I thought it’d be strange to live together when he hasn’t even met Dad yet. And he’s endearingly excited. So… it’s a good compromise.” Frankly she was excited too— that he was ready to be part of her flawed family she loved so much. 

“Well,” Maria paused, “you know I’ll be there to help keep things from getting too awkward, right?”

Anya smiled. “Don’t even have to ask.”

“I mean— I’ll let it get a  _ little _ awkward, since you two have put me through too much this year.” 

“I suppose it’s only fair.” They shared a laugh and a grateful hug. “Do you think they’ll like him?” She had to believe they would, but of course she was a little biased. 

“Nanna will  _ love _ that you found a handsome Russian man.” Anya snorted. “And… as long as he doesn’t try to be funny, he can be charming.”

Wasn’t that the truth. Now that Maria was on board with this she felt a lot better about their plans at the end of the month. Later in the afternoon, they buttoned up coats, squeezed into gloves, and hailed a taxi, taking them across town to the ice skating rink. Dmitry and Pierre were supposed to meet them there. 

The double date was Maria’s idea. Anya was skeptical about it at first, since Pierre and Dmitry came from entirely different worlds, but it wasn’t like they hadn’t spent time together before. And once they were at the rink and Dmitry was on a bench struggling with the laces on his skates, she decided today would be at least interesting and at most hilarious. 

“Here,” she knelt down to finish lacing up the rest of his skate. 

Dmitry crossed and uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on the bench, uncomfortable. “Have you done this before?”

She shrugged. “Couple times. Ready?”

“That ice won’t know what hit em!” He leapt up and immediately lost his balance, making Anya laugh. 

“Easy there.”

They made it out onto the ice with Maria and Pierre. Generic pop music was playing over the speakers and the sound of children laughing and blades scraping the ice made it hard to hear. When Dmitry hung close to the wall Anya spun around to stay next to him, always amused when his bravado slipped away when he stepped into new territory. His eyebrows rose. “Wait, you’re like, actually good at this.”

She shrugged and stuck her chin out. “I took lessons as a child. Didn’t keep it up, though.” She took his hand and tugged him forward. Ahead of them Maria and Pierre were in a similar situation. 

“Interesting.” He slowly followed the movement of her feet on the ice. “Got any other hidden talents I should know about?”

She pondered for a second. “I also took horseback riding lessons.”

“No way!”

“I won the spelling bee in like… fifth grade? And I was on the debate team in high school.”

“You were busy.”

“Yeah.” They finally made a single lap around the rink. “What about you? Is there anything else I don’t know about?”

“Hmm…” he looked up, thinking. “Oh! I played piano a really long time ago.”

She gasped. “I didn’t know that!”

“It’s true, I swear.” He grinned. “It doesn’t really count, though, since I only took lessons for a few weeks, if that.”

“It still counts.”

“Sure it does.” He pulled her hat down over her eyes and she shoved him. 

Maria, with a Pierre in towe, found them again before the zamboni break. The four of them had a mediocre snack break at the cafe, full of laughs and teasing and community Anya loved. There were worse double dates, she decided.

* * *

“Wake up!” Dmitry barged back into his bedroom with glee. 

“Why?” Anya groaned, her voice muffled in the pillow. 

“It snowed!” He leapt onto the bed, hoping his kisses would wake her up, but she pulled the comforter to her chin and pushed him away with a palm blindy pressed to his face. 

“Won’t the snow still be here in two hours?”

“We have to get to the park early if we want to find a good sledding spot.”

“Uuughhhhh.” She pulled the blankets over her head completely then. “It’s too cold and wet.”

“But it’ll be fun!!” The rush of cold air biting his face and the crunch of snow under his feet, the thrill of racing recklessly down a hill, all of it made him feel ten years old again. “You’ll look so cute with a pink nose. And then afterwards we can get something warm to drink.”

“Can’t we just skip to the part where we get hot chocolate and take a nap?”

He pulled the comforter back down to see her blink up at him, laughing at her disdain. “Nope.”

She groaned again. “Why does it have to be sledding?”

“Because the snow is perfect for it today, and you’ll have so much fun.” When she continued to pout he asked, “What do you have against sledding?”

“I don’t know! It’s cold, it’s dangerous, it’s exhausting, and I just don’t see the point of going up and down a hill just to make yourself miserable for a few hours.”

“But it’s thrilling!” Her expression didn’t change. “You really don’t like sledding?”

“Nope.”

“And you won’t change your mind?”

“Nope.”

“Alright.” He sighed. “Tell you what— you do one activity with me this morning to celebrate the first snowfall of the year, and I’ll make you as many warm beverages as you’d like for the rest of the day to warm you up, my treat.”

A pause as she considered his offer. “Does this activity have to be sledding?”

“No!” He laughed. “As long as it’s… appropriate for the season, you pick.”

“Hmm.” She sat up and stretched. “Will you wear that one sweater?”

“Which sweater?”

“The white one.”

“And risk ruining it? No way.”

“I’m afraid that’s a dealbreaker.”

His shoulders did look good in that sweater, he’d admit. “Fine. Just for you.”

A smile finally bloomed across her face. “Good.”

“What do you have planned for us, then?”

“I have an idea.”

They ended up at the park like Dmitry had originally imagined, but far away from the crowded hill he expected to be standing atop of. Instead they were trying to lift the second tier of a snowman onto the boulder-sized pile of snow they’d rolled. After cramming a few pebbles to make a face and finding sticks for arms, Anya handed him an old cap she was willing to part with for him to place on top of the snowman’s head. They stepped back to admire their creation. Snowflakes had started to float down again in thick, puffy chunks, sticking to Anya’s hat and eyelashes. 

“What should we call him?” she asked. 

Dmitry rested his hands on his hips. “Stumpy.”

“No!” She shoved his shoulder and he laughed. “He needs a more dignified name, like Reginald or something.”

He grinned down at her. “Reginald it is.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Have you thought about what you’d like me to make you?”

“Something sweet,” she hummed, nestling closer to his side. 

He rubbed up and down her arms to stop her shivering. “And how about a movie on the couch?”

“Yes please.”

They made it back to his apartment, peeled off their wet coats, and after he prepared their mugs, snuggled up on the couch. Even though he didn’t go sledding like he’d wanted, this was still the best way to spend an entire Saturday. 

* * *

Dmitry came through the door, holding a package in his hand, looking very hesitant. Anya called distractedly from the kitchen as she looked for her shoes, “What’ve you got?”

“I’m… it’s…” when he didn’t finish she came forward and let him drop the parcel in her hands. On it was stamped the publishing company he worked for. 

She gasped. “Wait— is it— oh my god!”

“I… don’t know if I can open it.”

“Are you kidding me! Don’t you want to see?”

He sighed. After a minute, with shaky hands, he tore the package open, revealing a sturdy hardback with a collage of smiling faces overlaying the skyline of the city. The title read,  _ Portrait: The Untold Lives of New York and What Connects Us All, _ and at the bottom in bold print,  _ by Dmitry Sudayev. _ His fingers brushed over the bumps of his name on the cover.

“Oh my god,” she grinned up at him. When his eyes met hers he was blinking back tears, his smile big enough to outshine the sun. “Are you proud?”

“I’ve never— I don’t think I’ve ever been proud of anything before. But this,” he inhaled and shook his head, incredulous, unable to finish. 

“We’re going to have to make this date a celebratory dinner, then,” she beamed.

Maria came out of her room to see what all the fuss was about, and then let out a validating holler of excitement. Their initial date of two grew to a full party at an affordably-nice restaurant. He usually said no to spending time with more than a handful of people, but to Anya’s delight, he said the more the merrier. Real, genuine pride looked good on him. 

“Tomorrow I’m going to the bookstore,” Anya said to him in their round booth, “and it would be  _ so _ cool if the handsome celebrity author would sign my copy.”

He grinned, her favorite dimple poking through his left cheek. “I’d have to check with him. He’s a difficult man to get to, you know, but he does think you’re pretty, so you may have a chance.”

She laughed. “And when you eventually have your book signing event, I’ll be first in line.”

“I don’t know if there’ll ever be a book signing, honestly. But if there was… would you want to come with me?”

“And be your trophy girlfriend? Absolutely. But is that allowed?”

He shrugged. “What could they do? Turn me away?”

“True.” She stole a fry from his plate. “Sounds like we have full schedules, then.”

“That, we do.”

* * *

“Okay, be honest. Is this too much?” Dmitry stepped out of the closet to model another suit jacket— the fifth one of the morning— for Anya. The day of the infamous Romanov family brunch had finally arrived and he wanted to dress his best, even if it meant being ready a full hour after she was finished and ready to go.

She was wearing a deep blue dress, making her eyes both brighter and more penetrating than ever. “That one’s a winner.”

“Is it?” He grinned. “Now… what tie should I wear?”

“Hmm…” She browsed through the options he’d laid out on his dresser. “You don’t have to be so nervous, you know.”

“Is it that obvious?” he laughed, but his hands fidgeted at his sides. Maybe he wasn’t as good at hiding as he used to be.

She raised a knowing eyebrow but only mumbled, “This one matches my dress.” Instead of letting him tie the tie she picked out, she reached up to loop it around his neck, brow knit in concentration as her fingers worked. “I’m serious, though. You already get along with Maria. The rest will love you, even if you do say something mean about rich people.”

He pressed his lips to the hand resting on his chest, his thumb rubbing small circles on her knuckles. “I hope so.”

Her smile was soft, fond. “Ready?” she adjusted his tie one more time. “We need to help Maria finish setting up.”

“One last thing.” He tilted her chin up so he could give her a kiss. “That should do it.”

They walked next door to see how they could help Maria prepare for their guests. Apparently, each of the siblings— and their parents— took turns hosting, and since Dmitry would be appearing this time, Maria and Anya’s apartment was selected. Inside a buffet table had been laid out by the caterers (they could afford catering? For a party of eight?) and for the first time as far as he was aware a table cloth was on the table, with flowers as the centerpiece. 

He dodged a caterer coming in with another tray of pastries. “Wow, Maria, this is the cleanest I’ve seen the place.”

“You mean it’s this clean  _ all _ the time, right?” Maria answered with a sarcastic smile and he got the point. No teasing until after everyone leaves. 

Soon their buffet was all set up and he was already overwhelmed. To Dmitry, brunch was just a late breakfast, plain and simple. He knew there’d be a little more to it than that but he didn’t expect all this… hullabaloo. It must’ve shown on his face because Anya appeared by his side, her eyes asking  _ are you okay? _

He shrugged.  _ I wish it was just you and me. _

She squeezed his hand.

The first guest to arrive was her brother, Alexei. With his matching chin and blue eyes, Dmitry could see the resemblance immediately. “Hey, you’re the barista from that one coffee shop!”

“I do work there, yeah.”

Alexei smiled teasingly at Anya. “I knew something was going on with you two.”

Dmitry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly but already felt more at ease. They discussed his life in med school and even found a few shared interests in PlayStation games. Her older sisters, Olga and Tatiana, arrived next. They weren’t as easy. He’d expected her dad to be the scariest, but now he wasn’t sure anything could come close to Olga’s motherly glare. 

Finally, her parents arrived, and Alexandra and Nicholas looked as intimidating as could be until he smiled. The hard, menacing businessman vanished, replaced by the warm and loving father Anya spoke so fondly of. 

He thought it was strange at first. Having a fancy buffet in his girlfriend’s apartment, a small group of people who all talked over each other because they were too excited about whatever they were saying to wait, people who knew more about the stock market than he did. He thought he’d be uncomfortable— of course he  _ was, _ with his extra sweaty palms and bouncing knee under the table— but after some time to adjust he relaxed. Maria was sitting next to him, Anya on the other side, so he always had someone to talk to. He expected a lot of underlying drama or discussions on… well, whatever rich people talked about. But really, they were just… normal. Eventually Olga warmed up enough to show him pictures of her two kids, Anya would grab his hand under the table, and Maria would help her to bring him into whatever conversation was going on. He guessed he’d never experienced a big family like this, and maybe he’d never considered liking it as much as he did. 

“So, Dmitry,” Nicholas called from a few seats away, snapping Dmitry out of his thoughts, “Anastasia bought me a copy of your book.” 

He swallowed. When would he stop forgetting he was a published author now? “Have you gotten the chance to read it?”

“I’ve started it, yes. From what I can tell it’ll be an excellent addition to my library.”

“Thank you, that means a lot,” Dmitry loosed a breath, feeling like he’d just passed some unspoken test. 

“Have you started anything else?”

“Not yet,” he glanced down at Anya, who was chewing on her quiche and smiling at her father, “I have a few ideas, though.”

The rest of the meal was rather uneventful. He felt confident enough to talk about his work as a writer, and when the questions about how they met arose, he wasn’t as embarrassed as he thought he’d be. 

Everyone left at the same time, and the caterers cleaned up quickly, so as soon as the door closed the silence fell heavily on the three of them. Dmitry loosened his tie and pulled Anya to the couch with him, not caring if Maria was annoyed or not, he was ready for a  _ nap. _

She nestled under his arm and he threaded his fingers through her hair, which still fell in soft curls down her back, looking like waves of sunshine. “Did it live up to the hype?” she asked in a small voice.

“I think so. The food was delicious, maybe we should try to get some more money so we can eat like that more often.”

She smiled, resting her chin on his chest. “But did you like them?”

He took a deep, tired breath. “Yeah, actually. I know your family is important to you, so they’re important to me, too.” He kissed her forehead. “Did  _ I _ live up to the hype?”

She giggled. “Yes, you were very charming. Everyone made sure to tell me you’re handsome on the way out.”

He laughed. “Good, I accomplished my one goal for today.”

“Do you guys want to watch anything?” Maria came out of her bedroom in sweatpants and a crewneck and fell into the recliner. 

“As long as it doesn’t require energy,” Anya started, “I’m down for anything.”

“Agreed,” Maria decided. 

About five minutes into the movie they picked on Netflix, all three were asleep.

* * *

3:17, the clock read. Anya rolled over to see the other side of the bed was empty. She wasn’t sure what woke her up, but with a swirling blizzard howling outside it wouldn’t hurt to investigate. 

With the comforter wrapped around her shoulders, Anya found him on the kitchen floor, slumped against the refrigerator. “What are you doing out here?”

Dmitry sighed. “Pooka’s afraid of the storm.”

“The blizzard?”

“Yeah. The wind freaks him out. I usually watch him until he tires himself out, in case he accidentally hurts himself or something.”

Anya crouched next to him. Sure enough, the dog was running laps around the apartment, his nails scratching the kitchen floor. Next to her Dmitry rubbed his eyes. He always looked more youthful when he was this sleepy, for some reason, and in spite of the many sides she had seen of him, this was still her favorite. He was softer, quieter. Like he was too tired to care enough to hide his emotions. 

Slowly they watched as Pooka’s sprints settled into an anxious trot while the winds died down. Other than the claws periodically clicking on the hardwood, the world was so still. So quiet. Quiet enough to hear the noises she’d normally ignore— the gentle hum of the refrigerator against her back, the furnace turning on and off, clumsy footsteps in the hallway, the whistle of the wind outside. Her body even felt quieter— her limbs heavy, brain a little fuzzy. Everything soft and dreamy.

“Dmitry?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I still move in with you?”

His head whipped down in disbelief. “You really want to?”

“Yes.”

His grin was priceless. He wrapped an arm around her and she scooted closer. “Of course.”

“Did I take too long?”

“No.” He kissed the top of her head. “What made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t need to change my mind, because I never said no.”

“You know what I mean. What made you… say yes, then?”

She shrugged. Truthfully she had no idea. Maybe she just needed time to let the idea process before jumping in. “I don’t know, really. But I guess… when I think about the future, I can’t picture anyone there except you. It was always you.”

“Well,” he paused, letting her words sink in. “That’s a pretty big reason.”

“Yeah,” she smiled, not really sure how to continue after saying something so vulnerable.

“You’re sure, though? You’re not… you don’t feel obligated or anything?”

“Yes, Dima. I wanna live with you.”

His smile was so soft and  _ happy _ that she tugged him down for a kiss. “Good.”

They may have fallen asleep on the hard kitchen floor, and her back may have been sore in the morning, but it was the best night’s sleep she’d gotten in weeks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then they were ROOMMATES

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm keeping this marked as incomplete in case anyone wants more bickering dimya later :)


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